A CONTRAST IN THAMES ANGLING in 



us from imagining that we were altogether in the 

 country. Then, it is not disagreeable to the lazy man 

 to have a fisherman (especially when it is a good handy 

 man like Hawkins) fussing about, and handling the 

 nasty baits, and making himself generally useful, as 

 the deft-handed and willing professional so well knows 

 how to do when afloat. All this, of course, was very 

 well for a while. We looked round upon the prospect, 

 and discussed it. We made inquiries of the fisherman 

 as to whether the swallows had all departed for their 

 winter quarters. We inquired who lived in yonder 

 mansion, and heard a long tale about the owner having 

 made money by inventing a wonderful kind of auto- 

 matic blacking-brush. 



As the story fizzled out, the leger lines having 

 been down for some little time, I thought, and not 

 without reason, that I saw the point of my rod trem- 

 bling. Surely enough it was a bite, but, as Hawkins 

 suggested (doubtless borrowing the pun from some 

 bygone customer), it might have been an audacious 

 dace. At any rate, the only result we achieved at that 

 particular time was the necessity of affixing another 

 lob-worm to the hook, and the casting out of the bulleted 

 line again. This story, together with the hearty 

 way in which Hawkins expressed his contempt for the 

 patentee of the blacking-brush and his family, was so 

 interesting and amusing that I looked at him instead 

 of at my fishing rod ; and as he at the same time looked 

 at me, the position was left unguarded, and we were 

 both of us recalled from the realms of scandal by a 

 vigorous plunge of the rod-top. It was a sharp 

 " knock," in fact, followed by a series of tugs, so violent 

 that the rod rattled on the edge of the punt. There 

 was no merit on my part in getting that barbel, 

 for the fish had hooked himself, and had gone down 



